


Hufflepuff

by MiraclesAndObstacles



Series: Hogwarts Series [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:29:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9250337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraclesAndObstacles/pseuds/MiraclesAndObstacles
Summary: Dortmund players as Hufflepuff students.A game of truth or dare.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> So this is the first chapter of my new Hogwarts Series.
> 
> I couldn't tag Melissa Jiménez (don't ask me why) if any of you knows how I can tag her, please let me know in the comments below!
> 
> Also I would love to read a bit of feedback from you guys, so let me know your thoughts in the comment below.
> 
> I hope you have a wonderful day!  
> xx

**Christmas holidays of 1974, Hufflepuff Common Room**

 

“I dare you to ask Melissa over there to join us.”

 

“Sunny” Marc did his characteristic hair-ruffling move and gave all of his friends a pained look in turn.

 

They were sitting in a circle on the floor of the common room. In the corner, the goalkeepers Roman and Roman were playing a game of Exploding Snap and Melissa was reading in her History of Magic textbook on a chair by the fire.

 

Marco raised his eyebrows. “I’d love for her to join, mate!”

 

Erik didn’t say anything.

Mario gave Marc an encouraging prod.

 

“Hey, Jiménez?”, suddenly Marc was on his feet, and it struck Marco again that all his friends, with the exception, perhaps, of Erik, were getting ridiculously tall.

 

Marc had now approached his target and lowered his voice somewhat.

Next thing they knew, Melissa came bouncing out of her chair and shoved herself easily between Erik and Marco.

Everyone shifted around to make the circle more roomy.

 

“Truth or dare!”, her grey eyes were sparkling with mischief, “What’d I miss?”

 

“Well,” Mario leaned over and gave her a big wink. “I was just daring Mr Bartra here to get you to join us.”

 

Melissa laughed, “And before that?”

 

“Nothing much. Erik has been dared to sing _supercalifragilisticexpialidocious_ at breakfast tomorrow.”

 

To his credit, Marco didn’t stumble over the word at all.

 

“Well, that I can’t wait to see!” Melissa clasped her hands together. “So it’s my turn now, is it?”

 

“Actually-” Marc quickly shut up when he saw the look on Melissa’s face.

 

“So,” Melissa looked around the room in a way that made Marco nervous.

 

She knew things.

She was the first friend he’d made at Hogwarts, and she was incredibly intuitive.

She knew things even his best friends didn’t know.

He could only hope and pray that she was discreet enough not to corner him.

 

******************************************************************************

**Autumn of 1973, Hogwarts Library**

 

“I swear to God, Marco, if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you I’ll go and sit over there!”

 

Marco looked up from his Herbology textbook and asked Melissa: “Why?”

 

“Because you’re fidgeting! You haven’t turned a page in half an hour and you keep sighing like the apocalypse is imminent.”

 

She was right, and he knew it.

 

“Don’t go sit over there. I’ll behave.”

 

“Christ. You’re not a dog, Marco, you don’t have to jump when I say jump. But I’m your friend and if something is the matter you need to tell me.”

 

Somehow, this made him giggle. “You’re right, I’m not a dog. And I suppose you really are my friend, Melissa.”

 

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Melissa felt a sudden wave of sadness, because it appeared to be news to Marco that they were friends and his insecurities would be the death of him someday. Marco was deliberating how much of his current predicament he could reveal to her.

 

Finally, without looking up, he whispered: “I’m in love.”

 

Melissa gave a squeal that earned her a reproachful look from Mister Löw, the librarian.

 

“With whom?”

 

“I can’t tell you that.”, his voice, he hoped, was stern.

 

“So it’s someone I know. Boy or girl?”

 

Marco tried to keep his expression blank, but it didn’t work.

She looked so happy for him, so genuinely interested, that he suddenly desperately wanted to tell her everything.

 

“A boy,” he admitted. “Although you’re right, I like both.”

 

She nodded and urged him to go on.

 

“It’s Mario.”

 

This time Melissa almost screamed. “I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

 

Now that the truth was out there, Marco felt oddly relieved. “It’s horrible, though.” He sighed again.

 

“Why?”

 

“He’s my best friend.” She shot him a look. “Okay, so he’s my best guy friend, you’re my best girl friend. But I’m pretty sure he’s straight and either way I don’t want to harm our friendship. That would be shit for us, but also for Marc and Erik.”

 

She nodded. “I understand what you’re saying about your friendship, but I’m pretty sure Mario is as bent as a banana.”

 

Marco choked on a laugh. “What makes you say that?”

 

“Doesn’t he wear leather trousers during the weekends?”

 

Marco turned bright red. “Yeah. Yes, he does.”

 

******************************************************************************

**Christmas holidays of 1974, Hufflepuff Common Room**

 

Marco was pulled out of his reverie when Melissa’s sharp eyes focussed on him.

 

“Marco,” her grin spoke of nothing but trouble, “truth or dare?”

 

“Dare,” Marco said immediately.

 

No question about it.

 

She’d been expecting it, though, because her response was instantaneous. “I dare you to brush Mario’s hair.”

 

Mario let out an indignant squeaking noise. “How is this a dare for Woody and not for me? Who says I want to get my hair brushed?”

 

“You do want to get your hair plaited,” Erik pointed out.

 

It was true.

Mario shut up after that and allowed Marco to sit down behind him and smooth his hair down.

 

“So now it’s my turn,” said Marco.

 

His hands were busy sorting through Mario’s messy hair and he had to crane his neck a bit to be seen over his shoulder, but otherwise it wasn’t too awkward.

 

Okay, yeah, Mario did smell really, really good.

But no one had to know that.

 

Marco immediately rounded on Melissa in the name of payback. “Jiménez, truth or dare?”

 

Mario and Marc yelled “hey,” at the exact same time.

 

“You two BFF’s can’t just bounce it back and forth all night,” Mario explained.

 

Marco patted him on the head softly and whispered: “Just this one. I’m really curious about something.” Mario eyes grew big and, mercifully, he shut up.

 

“Jiménez,” Marco said, a bit louder, “truth or dare?”

 

Her smile was a lot less confident now as she said: “Err, truth?”

 

“So what’s the real reason you’ve decided to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays?”

 

Melissa bit her lip.

It was a risky move on his part, to broach such a personal topic with all the others around, but Marco was genuinely worried.

 

“I didn’t want to see my family.”

 

Mario sat up a little straighter, and Marco accidentally let go of his hair.

Sod it.

 

Mario offered Melissa the flask of Fire whiskey they’d been passing around.

 

“Have a drink on me, love.”

 

Melissa took a hearty swig, Marc stared at her, and she asked Mario: “You got a shit family, too?”

 

“Yep,” Mario reached to his left and patted Marc on the back, “lucky I got Bartra and his folks to help me out.”

 

Melissa looked over at Marc with a surprised little smile. “He stays with you over the holidays?”

 

Marc nodded. Melissa needed a little time to digest this information.

 

“It’s your turn,” Erik pointed out.

 

“Erik,” but Melissa couldn’t finish her sentence.

 

Erik had already said: “Dare!”

 

“Very well,” said Melissa. “I dare you to steal a lock of hair from Thomas Tuchel.”

 

The whole group was silent for a few incredible seconds.

The audacity, the genius of this dare was unsurpassed in the five friends’ history.

They were all in awe of this idea’s brilliance.

Then everybody started talking all at once.

 

“Do I have to do it right now?”

 

“How will we know it’s really Tuchel’s hair and not someone others’?”

 

“If he asks for it, is it still stealing?”

 

“You’re mad, he’s not going to ask for a piece of Tuchel’s beard!”

 

Melissa stood up and everyone fell silent. “The terms of the dare,” she announced, “are as follows. It is to be completed within the next 48 hours. If there are no reliable witnesses, I will perform the genesis charm to determine the hair’s origin. Asking or bargaining doesn’t count as stealing. Erik, do you accept those terms?”

 

“Do I have a choice?” Erik asked dejectedly.

 

“Not unless you want to chicken out,” said Marc.

 

It was decided. Chickening out on a dare was the worst kind of humiliation. Erik just nodded and accepted his fate.

 

“Marc, truth or dare?”

 

“Sorry mate, this early on in the game it’s got to be a dare.”

 

Erik hid his disappointment well. “I dare you to say the alphabet backwards in an American accent.”

 

It was an old classic, the dare they’d been pestering each other with since they were in their first year, and Marc, who had actually gotten rather good at saying the alphabet backwards in an American accent, stood up and made a bit of a show of it.

 

Melissa leaned over towards Mario while Marc was giving his little performance and said: “I didn’t know you’d been staying at the Bartra’ over holidays.”

 

“It’s no biggie,” Mario assured her, although it was, in fact, a biggie. “I just don’t get along well with my brother and my mum, mostly.”

 

“And your dad?”

 

“My dad doesn’t care what I do one way or another.”

 

Melissa gave him a pained look. “My brother hates me because I’m a witch,” she offered up.

 

Mario’s eyebrows shot up. “Hates you because you’re a witch?”

 

She was about to elaborate but Marc had already gotten around to “D,” and it was time to start paying attention to the rest of the group again.

 

“Marco,” Marc said as he folded his legs back under him and took the Fire whiskey from Melissa. “Truth or dare?”

 

It was time to bite the bullet.

 

“Truth,” Marc was a relatively safe asker.

 

He might go digging, but he had no idea what he was digging for.

And if Marco never said “truth,” he’d be getting shit for it.

 

Marc smiled at him, and somehow Marco felt reassured. “Have you ever snogged anyone?”

 

“No,” Marco answered.

 

That wasn’t too bad.

Everyone in their circle already knew that.

Marc was just trying to steer to conversation to more risqué topics, and Marco understood why.

 

Marco turned to Melissa. “Truth or dare?”

 

“Truth,” she offered.

 

“Do you have a crush on anybody?”

 

It was probably a stupid question to ask.

It was basically an invite for her to ask him the exact same question, and he did not want to answer it.

However, he did sort of want to help Marc out.

 

Melissa, meanwhile, was blushing and spluttering and not meeting anybody’s eyes. “Can someone define the word ‘crush’ for me?”

 

Mario laughed at that. “If you really have a crush, you know about it, alright!” he said.

 

Marc gave him an odd look. “Oh yeah, Mario? And you know this, how, exactly?”

 

Mario didn’t answer, because Melissa answered her question first. “I might. I’m not sure. I’m not lying; I’m genuinely not sure. Sorry.”

 

Marc looked at her for a long time but she didn’t meet his eyes when she said: “Marc, truth or dare?”

 

“Truth.”

 

“Do you believe in love at first sight?”

 

“Yes,” said Marc immediately, “I do. Marco, truth or dare?”

 

“Erik and I are feeling left out!” Mario objected.

 

“Rough luck, mate,” Marc was still looking at Melissa. “Marco?”

 

“Truth.”

 

“Do you believe in love at first sight?”

 

******************************************************************************

**September 1st 1971, on the Hogwarts Express**

 

Marco accepted a final, teary-eyed hug from his mum and started hauling his trunk onto the train.

His father was deep in conversation with a colleague, something Schürrle or other, and clearly wasn’t aware that his son kind of needed a hand.

His mum had started full on sobbing now, and Marco wasn’t eager to show the wide-eyed students around him that yes, she was his mother.

A solution presented itself in the form of a lanky young boy with blond, fluffy looking hair and sparkling eyes.

 

“I’ll help you with yours if you help me with mine,” he said.

 

Marco was so startled that he was being addressed by a stranger, that he dropped his trunk back onto the platform.

The guy picked it up without much trouble and gestured for Marco to get on the train and take it from him.

Then, with strong, lean arms, he lifted his own trunk and passed it to Marco.

 

When both suitcases had been loaded, he climbed the step into the train himself and said, a little breathlessly: “Nice to meet you. Mario Götze.”

 

They were shaking hands and Marco was at a loss for words.

Oh God, Mario Götze, you have the most gorgeous eyes.

What are your hopes and dreams, Mario Götze?

What do you want out of life?

How does it feel to touch your hair?

 

He managed, instead, to say: “Marco Reus, pleasure to meet you.”

 

******************************************************************************

**Christmas holidays of 1974, Hufflepuff Common Room**

 

Marco cleared his throat before answering. “Yes, I believe in love at first sight. Mario, truth or dare?”

 

Mario beamed at him. “Which would you prefer, Woody?”

 

Marco rolled his eyes, and Mario picked dare.

 

“I dare you to massage my shoulders,” Marco shot him a big grin.

 

They had had a long Quidditch training day three nights ago and he had some serious muscle pains.

Mario obediently clambered behind him into their familiar positions and dug his palms into Marco’s shoulder blades.

 

“Never have to dare me for that,” he said softly.

 

Marco didn’t hear him, because he was concentrating on keeping his eyes open and his breathing even as Mario worked miracles on his back.

 

“Erik,” said Mario.

 

“Dare,” said Erik.

 

Mario grinned. “I dare you to eat a whole handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans at once.”

 

Erik made a face.

Eating more than one Bean at a time was notoriously disgusting.

 

“You got any?”

 

Marc disappeared into their dormitory and returned with a big bag of candy. Mario, who was still focussing his attention on Marco, shot Marc a smile.

Erik completed this dare with admirable stoicism.

There were no moans of protest, no gagging noises and, most importantly, there was no projectile vomiting.

He washed down his snack with a mouthful of Fire whiskey and turned his gaze to Mario.

 

“Truth or dare, Sunny?”

 

Now Mario was in for it.

If he said ‘dare,’ he’d no doubt be forced to do something humiliating or disgusting like what he’d just made Erik do.

If he chose ‘truth,’ he’d have to bare his soul.

It was a lose-lose situation.

 

“Truth.”

 

“If you had to snog someone in this room, who would it be?”

 

Mario’s mouth fell open. Erik’s expression wasn’t curious.

It wasn’t teasing.

It was knowing, and earnest.

He’d figured it out.

Erik, tiny little Erik with the chubby cheeks and the shoddy spell work, had seen right through him.

Marc knew, obviously.

Did Marco know?

Did Marco know?

 

There was no point in lying. “Marco,” he said, and removed his hands from said bloke’s shoulders.

 

“Why?” Marc immediately asked.

 

Mario gave him a long look.

The git already knew why, but bless him for playing along.

 

******************************************************************************

**Spring term of 1972, the Quidditch Pitch**

 

“I may be in deep shit, Bartra.”

 

“Aren’t you always?”

 

“Ha, ha. Idiot. No, I’m serious.”

 

“Aren’t you always?”

 

The joke was old enough that neither of them laughed.

 

“What is it this time?” Marc went on, “Aubameyang caught you raiding his underwear drawer? You may have been contaminated by whatever grows in Müller’s hair? You’ve finally looked in the mirror and discovered that you look like a complete and utter wanker?”

 

“I hope you drop that Quaffle on your face.”

 

They were lying side by side in the grass and Marc was throwing the Quaffle in the air and catching it a split second before it hit him on the nose and broke it. Mario was looking at the clouds.

There was one shaped a bit like a fried egg, and for some reason he found this unbearably funny.

 

“Anyway, Bartra, I think I’m in love with Woody.”

 

Marc dropped the Quaffle on his face. “Wait a sec, what?”

 

Mario didn’t dare look at him. Marc sat up.

 

“Sunny, what?”

 

“You heard me. I’m in love with him. I want to give him roses and squishy teddy bears and sloppy kisses. I want to touch his hair and stuff.”

 

Marc groaned. “You’re in deep shit, man.”

 

“I just said that. I know this breaks, like, a million rules of our bro code, and I’ve tried to stop myself, but I can’t.”

 

“Of course you can’t, Sunny. You can’t make yourself stop loving someone once you love them.” Marc’ voice had gone softer now, and Mario felt a wave of fondness for his best friend.

 

He hid it by shooting him an annoyed look.

 

“I swear to Merlin, Marc, if this turns into another rant about Melissa’s eyes being the colour of fog during a Quidditch practice at dawn…”

 

“I wasn’t going to say that. What colour eyes does Marco have, anyway?”

 

“Brown,” sighed Mario. “Though you can hardly tell because of the light sometimes they look greenish or light brown. How can someone resist those eyes?”

 

Marc grinned at Mario. “Brown,” he sing-songed, “the colour of chocolate frogs and bliss.”

 

Mario elbowed him in the ribs.

Marc dropped the Quaffle again.

 

******************************************************************************

**Christmas holidays of 1974, Hufflepuff Common Room**

 

Mario shrugged. “I don’t have to tell you why, Prongs. One question per turn. Jiménez, truth or dare?”

 

Melissa gave him a calculating look. “Dare.”

 

Mario smiled innocently at her and said: “I dare you to do a handstand up against that wall for, err, two minutes.”

 

Melissa got up and looked at the wall.

She put her hands down on the floor, asked Marco to put on his wand alarm, and easily kicked her feet up into a handstand.

She was wearing pink pyjamas with her dressing gown over them for warmth. Mario had foreseen what Melissa had not; that the lapels of the dressing gown were now continuously swatting her in the face.

 

“Damn you, Götze!” she cursed breathlessly.

 

The terrycloth of the robe tickled her nose and obscured the common room from view.

Mario and Marc and Erik laughed uproariously and Marco attempted to stifle his giggles.

Then the wand alarm went off, and Melissa crumbled into a pink heap on the floor.

 

“Okay,” she dusted off her pyjamas and sat back down in her place. “Marc, truth or dare?”

 

Marc looked both delighted and terrified. “Dare,” he said, and puffed out his chest in a way that made the other boys snort with laughter.

 

“I dare you to switch clothes with me until the end of the game.”

 

Marc goggled at her. He was wearing jeans and a scarlet hoodie that declared his loyalty to the Borussia Dortmund, a Dortmunder Quidditch team. “Why?” he managed.

 

“Because I’m cold. And I think it’d be funny to see you in pink pyjamas.” Without looking around, she added: “The others agree!”

 

“Yes, we do!” said Erik, Marco and Mario at once.

 

Marc was not going to chicken out.

He went to the dormitory and returned with his clothes neatly folded, wearing a terrycloth robe of his own.

Melissa went to her common room to change.

In order to climb back down the stairs, she had to hold up Marc’ jeans with one hand while clutching the bannister with the other.

She was absolutely swimming in his sweater.

Marc disappeared into his dormitory with an armful of pink flannel, and reappeared looking absolutely ridiculous.

For starters, the pyjama bottoms came down to just below his knobby knees, leaving two hairy shins roaming wild and free.

The same would have happened to his underarms if he hadn’t also been wearing Melissa’s bathrobe.

It was a brighter shade of pink than the pyjamas, and he looked ridiculously comfy in them.

With a smug grin, he sat back down in the circle.

 

“Mario, truth or dare?”

 

“Dare,” said Mario.

 

There were way too many secrets Marc knew about him.

 

“Very well, I dare you to snog Marco.”

 

Both boys gave Marc incredulous looks.

What with all of the dares and cross-dressing shenanigans, Mario had all but forgotten his earlier admission.

Next to him, Woody was blushing and picking at his nail beds.

Mario Götze did not back out of a dare, ever.

He looked at Woody until he looked up shyly, and although there were nerves in his brown eyes, there was certainly no disgust.

 

So, ever so gently, Mario leaned over and pressed a kiss to Marco’s lips.

It was dry and gentle, and he kept his eyes closed, feverishly thinking about the fact that he was kissing Marco, that it was truly Marco he was kissing, that it wasn’t a dream.

Marco made a small throaty sound and his upper lip slid wetly over Mario’s and then Mario was done for.

He took Marco’s head firmly in both his hands to keep him close, and opened his mouth against him.

He also opened his eyes, and saw Woody looking right back at him.

Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Gods, now there was tongue and it tasted faintly of Fire whiskey and chocolate frogs and Marco’s hand had come to rest on his hips and they were pulling him steadily closer and, surely, this was what heaven felt like.

 

Neither of them pulled away.

Mario was kissing Marco, finally kissing Marco, and Marco was kissing him back with the most delightful, frantic, clumsy enthusiasm.

 

Marc cleared his throat.

Marco gave a start and hid his face in the crook of Mario’s neck for a second, so that Mario could feel the warmth of his breath.

 

“So,” said Marc, “that went well.”

 

Melissa was blushing a little and looking from Mario to Marco and back again with a big grin on her face.

 

“Marc,” said Mario, still holding Woody close, “I dare you to snog Melissa.”

 

Marc beamed at him as though Christmas had come early, and then turned that megawatt smile on Melissa.

 

“Oh, alright then,” she said, making an absurd wriggly motion to unearth her arms from the sleeves of Marc’ sweater.

 

Marc bounded over to her and they started making out without hesitation, both very happy looking.

 

“Told you,” said Mario. “When you’ve really got a crush, you know it.”

 

Melissa gave him the finger and returned to kissing Marc.

 

******************************************************************************

 

Marco awoke the next morning on something hard but warm.

Closer inspection revealed it to be Mario’s chest.

 

Not a dream, then.

Brilliant.

 

He was lying on Mario and Mario was lying on one of the overstuffed yellow sofas in the common room.

Mario was still fast asleep, and his hair was ruffled and adorable.

Marco’s fingers were in it before he knew what he was doing.

In the large armchair by the fire, he saw that Melissa had fallen asleep on Marc’ lap.

Erik was nowhere to be seen.

 

A croaking sound announced that someone was entering through the barrel hole.

Marco tensed for a moment.

 

Was it strange to be found snoozing on another bloke’s chest?

Probably.

But Mario’s hand shifted until it was around Marco’s waist, pulling him closer, and he suddenly found he didn’t care.

 

In the door opening was Erik, clutching a brownish-blondish-greyish lock of hair.

Tuchel’s hair.

 

Marco started laughing so loud he woke all the others up.

 

Erik looked at each of them in turn, eyes sparkling with mischief, and said: “You’ll never know how I did it.”

 

 


End file.
